


the growing is slow (or it cuts to the bone)

by iceberry



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Developing Friendships, Gen, Insomnia, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Sam Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent, Season/Series 13, implied PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:40:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29651457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceberry/pseuds/iceberry
Summary: Sam has a nightmare, Jack doesn't sleep all that much. They help each other out.(set early s13)
Relationships: Jack Kline & Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	the growing is slow (or it cuts to the bone)

**Author's Note:**

> set immediately after 13x04, the big empty. "bry, why do you keep writing s13 fics set in the library this is literally the 4th one" god i wish i knew

“Sam?” 

Sam doesn’t even startle _that_ much when Jack's voice reaches him from across the room, having been lulled into some kind of safety by the familiar warmth of the library lamps. Of course there’s a part of him that's always alert, always scanning even the safest places ( _especially_ the safest places) for catastrophe; that part is particularly keyed up right now, and it makes his muscles tense and shoulders flinch and heartbeat skip for a fraction of a second. But it fades away, and he relaxes quickly as he looks towards the back, where Jack hovers in the doorway. 

“Hey Jack,” he says, and puts on as much of a smile as he can muster. He’s grateful that the panic’s passed, hasn't lingered like some of the throes of anxiety he’s been in and out of since a particularly bad nightmare woke him up—he glances down to the watch on his wrist—two hours ago. Longer than he thought. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," Jack says, and he looks a little bit like a rabbit in a trap standing in the threshold, ready to bolt back into the winding hallways of the Bunker the second his presence isn't wanted and he’s released. "Is it okay if I come in?"

"Yeah, of course," Sam says, forcing warmth that he doesn’t really feel into his tone for the Nephilim's benefit, starts to stack some of the books and shuffle some of the papers around to make space for him to sit at the table across from Sam. "This is your home too now, remember?"

Jack doesn’t seem convinced by that (and Sam can't blame him), but he walks in anyways, fingers trailing along the shelves and the concrete pillars as he does. Sam notices Jack doing this sometimes, wonders if it’s part of his way of understanding the world the way Sam does with his books and his facts, how he’s processing being thrown into such a big world so quickly. He doesn’t ask about it as the nephilim sits down across from him, and doesn’t make eye contact.

"Why are you awake?" Jack asks after a second, and though the question is meek, Sam has to pause for a fraction of a second, to make sure he’s still grounded, to make sure that talking about it won't make the anxiety crackling just below his skin come to the surface again. _I'm okay_ , he thinks to himself, and it's mostly true. This is the library, this is Jack, and he's been awake for two hours, and all of that is real.

“I had a nightmare,” Sam admits, choosing to go with honesty, then realizing it might merit a bit more explanation—though maybe it’s not so much that it _merits_ elaboration as much as it is a matter of _wanting_ to share more with Jack, to make him feel more at ease, more welcome. “Sometimes I dream about bad memories. And when it wakes me up, I don’t want to go back to sleep because I don’t want to lay there and think about them anymore. So I usually come here to distract myself.”

“I’ve had three of those,” Jack says. “The ones that wake you up.” When he doesn’t elaborate, Sam feels particularly protective of him; he’s suddenly keenly aware of how much the nephilim has been thrust into in the short time since he was born. Three nights of bad memories is a lot for someone who’s been alive six weeks.

“What about you?” he asks gently, maybe a little quickly, but he sees Jack’s expression shift, and he’s not going to let his preoccupation with his own nightmares make Jack linger on his.

"I don't think I need to sleep like a human does," Jack says carefully, and he says it with some trepidation, like he’s afraid he’ll get in trouble if he doesn’t justify it. “I looked it up on the computer when I realized you and Dean slept more hours than me, and the internet told me that most humans sleep eight hours, but I can’t sleep for more than three, even if I’m really tired. Usually I sleep two. When I wake up I try to fall back asleep, but I just lay there, and I’m not tired anymore.”

"That makes sense," Sam replies, trying to balance out Jack's anxiety and make it a little easier on the boy by projecting a calm that he doesn’t _really_ feel. “Angels don’t sleep, you’re half-angel. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had told me that you didn’t sleep at all. It’s just how you naturally are.”

"...I don't want Dean to know," Jack says, looking up from where his hands are fidgeting in front of him on the table, then looking right back down. Sam curses at his brother in his mind, frustrated that the improvements they've made on this front have been incremental enough that 'no longer trying to kill himself' is the biggest improvement they've made regarding how Dean makes Jack feel. On the outside, he just nods slowly, presses his thumb down into his palm to stop his emotions from getting the better of him right now.

"He doesn’t have to know, and I won’t tell, I promise. But between you and me, Dean’s not the best at sleeping either.” 

"Really?"

Jack's eyes go a little wide at that, like he’s shocked to learn that Dean has _any_ weaknesses, any chinks in his armor, and Sam can’t stop an endeared half-smile from flickering across his face. “Almost as bad as me. Whiskey can help you fall asleep, but it’s not the best for staying that way.” Of course, it’s not just the whiskey, but the rest of that won’t help Jack right now. "Having trouble sleeping is just as human as getting eight hours a night, trust me," he adds, not sure if the comment about humanity is more for his own benefit or Jack’s. In return, he gets a reluctant, hesitant smile that he’ll take as a win.

"Hey, do you wanna watch a movie?" Sam asks. He's not sure what really makes the idea pop in his head, but it’s not half-bad as far as three AM plans go. Even before Jack came into the library, the words slid off the pages he was trying to read; too uneasy and anxious about the lingering images from his nightmares to actually focus and absorb anything, too jumpy to try and go back to sleep. “You said you like Clone Wars, right?”

“Yes,” Jack says, immediately more interested in talking about his new favorite show than in anything else that’s come up. “I have watched 76 episodes of Clone Wars, and there’s 121 total.” It’s moments like these, the endearing stiffness and blunt statements where Sam can see some of Cas in Jack, wonders how much his presence around Kelly during her pregnancy shaped the way Jack sees the world—remembers that when Jack asked for his father, he meant Castiel. It makes Sam’s chest feel a little tight to think about too long. But he shakes it off, he can’t let himself wander down that path of thinking, not when Jack is sitting across from him and needs him to be _there_ , not lost in his mind.

“Do you want to watch the original Star Wars movie? The one the show is based off of?”

“It’s based off of a _movie_?” Jack asks, eyes _really_ wide now and any hint that he wished he could sleep more completely wiped from his expression, and Sam _really_ has to bite back a laugh at that. “With real people?” Momentarily, he feels deeply old, and has a half-formed 'kids these days' thought cross his mind before he remembers Jack is less than two months old, which is a valid excuse for not knowing about Star Wars if there’s ever been one.

“Movies,” he says. “There’s more than one.” _But_ , he thinks, remembering the end of _Empire_ and Jack’s paternal situation, _let’s just start with_ A New Hope _for now_.

“I would love to watch a movie with you, Sam,” Jack says, and Sam’s smile reaches his eyes for the first time. He doesn’t feel completely better, but it’s easier to momentarily forget the images that arise every time he closes his eyes when he keeps them open to set up the bunker’s old projection screen, plug his laptop into the new-ish projector Dean found at a Cedar Rapids yard sale, drag the armchairs out from between the shelves and in front of the desk.

Sam glances over about twenty-five minutes into the movie, peers through the projector’s light and the illuminated dust at the nephilim, and maybe Jack feels his eyes on him and that prompts the comment, or maybe the timing of Sam’s look just works out. “Thank you, Sam. I’m enjoying this a lot,” Jack says quietly as the score swells over the two suns setting on Tatooine, the orange light of the movie’s sky lighting up Jack’s face in the dark library.

“Me too,” Sam replies, and he almost thanks Jack in return.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know if it's realistic for a kid in 2017 to watch clone wars and not know it's based off star wars, i never finished it, sorry! yes i know there's 133 clone wars episodes now but 12 were disney+ specific and thus are new. yes i know no one but me cares about that detail
> 
> this is quick + not super edited (basically at all), i am still working on other fics but work is kicking my ass and a little gift to myself was to write something fast and not worry too much about the details. i as usual love comments, sorry i've been bad at replying to them as of late! and ofc thanks to sophie as usual. and also as usual, title credit to lapis lazuli by the oh hellos
> 
> twitter is @tube_ebooks


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